Journey To The End
by SilverMusic10
Summary: What happens after Cas becomes human? Dean already knows how it plays out. Will he let what he saw happen in 2014 become real?
1. Finding Home

Two weeks. It took him two weeks to make his way back to the bunker. Two weeks of hitchhiking and losing his way and generally feeling miserable. He nearly quit a few times. What reason did he have to continue on anyway? It was his fault that all the angels had been cast out of heaven. And now….he had never felt so alone. So helpless and powerless and so…so human. One thought kept him going, though. One thought made him get up those countless times when he'd sat on the side of the road and wondered if he should just wait for death to come. Dean. It was always Dean.

After two weeks had passed and he was dirty and sweaty and tired and so ready to give in, he finally reached the bunker. Kevin looked more than a little surprised to see him at the door but let him in readily. Sam was still laid up in bed but Dean saw him the moment he walked in to the main room. The hunter, his hunter, stood and stared at him wide eyed for a long moment.  
"Cas…you son of a bitch…" he said and strode over to him to hug him tightly. It felt just like it had in Purgatory. Only this time Cas sagged into the hug. He was so tired. So, so tired. "I didn't think we'd hear from you again."  
"I landed far from here. It took me a long time to find this place," he explained when Dean had let him go.

"You couldn't have given us a call?" he asked, still looking over Cas to see if he was hurt.

"I….I could not remember your phone number," he frowned, looking away. He'd found that being human came with a lot of side effects. Besides the normal ones like sleep and hunger, he'd found his memory was not as good as it had been as an angel. It took longer to remember things, to think of things that had normally taken him an instant. Castiel had to constantly remind himself that he was no longer a heavenly being but a human. And as such, the limitations of a human body applied to him now.

Dean sighed then put a hand on his shoulder. "Well…come on. Let's get you cleaned up," he said and led Cas towards the showers.

"You know how to take a shower right?" he asked when they were there.

"I know the basics, yes," he nodded.

"Good," he said and cleared his throat. "I'll uh…wait outside. Call if you need anything." Dean looked around awkwardly and cleared his throat again before walking out the door.

Castiel managed to navigate the shower without any major tragedies. Though he did get shampoo in his eyes and discovered that it stung like hell. Among one of his least favorite human trait was the ability to feel pain. Over his two week hike he had accumulated a bunch of scrapes, scratches and bruises and it irritated him to no end that he could not heal them.

When he was finished with the shower, he discovered Dean waiting for him with a pair of jeans and an old band t-shirt. He was pointedly looking away from Cas and had that awkward look on his face again.

"Where are my old clothes?" Castiel asked, tilting his head.

"They're in the wash man. They were disgusting," he explained and thrust the clothes towards him. "You're going to have to wear these until we can go shopping for some clothes for you."

"Yes, okay," Cas nodded and numbly took the clothing from Dean. He quickly got dressed, frowning when he saw himself in the mirror. The jeans were too long and he'd had to cuff the ends and the t-shirt hung on his slighter frame. He was still frowning when he walked out of the door for Dean to see.

Cas could see Dean's eyes go wide and he cleared his throat yet again as he shifted a little in his chair. At one point there would have been other small signs that Castiel could have picked up. But he was no longer and angel, and so the smallest of details now were beyond his sight. Even now he could tell that the sight of him in the hunter's clothing pleased Dean so he endeavored a small smile. Dean opened his mouth to say something but the growling of Castiel's stomach interrupted him. The man grinned and stood, turning away from him.

"Sounds like you need food," he said, already heading for the kitchen.

Cas padded after him, the feel of the worn wood underneath his bare feet entrancing. This, he thought, was one of the benefits of being human. As an angel he had experienced many things, but not as a human did. Angels registered sensation but they did not feel it as a human did. Just as they did not feel emotion as humans did. But then, he was getting a lot of experience with human emotions lately. Guilt, fear, self-loathing. All threatening to overwhelm him. The one saving grace-and if that wasn't the most ironic term Cas had ever used, he'd eat a sock – was Dean. In all this, he knew he could count on Dean.

He sat quietly at the table as Dean cooked them up some burgers. He smiled softly at the smell and remembered how much his vessel enjoyed the taste of burgers. He wondered if it would be any different, eating them as a human, if they would taste any different. But when he took that first bite, his eyelids fluttered closed and he had to hold back a soft moan because this burger tasted better than any he'd ever had as an angel. Though that might be because Dean was the one who cooked it.

"Glad you like it," he heard Dean chuckle before he took a bite of his own burger.

They ate in relative silence. Dean asked how Cas got here and he told him about his experiences hitch hiking and camping alongside the road. Dean sympathized with him. He knew it must be hard for the ex-angel to be so suddenly thrust out into the world. But Cas had done It during the apocalypse and he was positive he could do it again now.

"Thank you Dean…." he said softly when Dean was cleaning up their dishes.

"For what Cas?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"For..everything," he said with a small sigh. "I know you probably shouldn't trust me after what happened. But here you are, letting me back in, cooking for me even."

"That what friends are for, right Cas?" he said, though his voice was a little tight.

"Just so you know…it wasn't me," he said. "Metatron tricked me. He stole my grace." He hated that his voice broke on the last word. The thought of his lost grace brought up feelings in him that were just too overwhelming. He didn't know how humans dealt with this magnitude of emotions on a daily basis. "I…" for once he was lost for words and he was shocked and dismayed to find tears blurring his eyes.

He felt even worse when he felt strong arms wrap around him. "It'll be okay Cas…" Dean whispered.

And for the next few minutes, Cas just cried and cried. It felt good, he thought, to let all of the pent up frustration and emotion rush out. But he also felt mortified that he was crying, something he'd never done, in front of Dean. When he was done he felt exhausted and his eyes were swollen and sore. Dean helped him to one of the rooms and then gave him one last worried look before leaving. Cas curled up on the bed and tugged the blankets around him and fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep.


	2. Being Human

Hello everyone! I am sooo sorry that this next chapter is going up so late. I've been super swamped with work. Also, every time I go to write it I just give myself feels and it ends with me sobbing over a romantic comedy and some ice cream...

I originally had a much longer chapter planned with more stuff but I decided to break it into two parts, so this is more of an exposition chapter (shit really hits the fan next time). Still, I hope you all enjoy and thank you all for being patient with me!

P.S. I apologize for any formatting issues. I had it all pretty in Word but whatever this site uses messed it up and I can't figure out how to fix it...

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Over the next few weeks Cas slowly acclimated to being human. He'd done it once before, he told himself, during the apocalypse. Of course, then he'd still had his grace, still had some angelic qualities about him. Now he was firmly, solidly human. He was secretly glad that Jimmy's soul was no longer within him as he thought two human souls sharing the same body could get very awkward very quickly.

Still, even with Dean's assistance, he had some trouble. He was unused to having to eat and even having to sleep. There were times when he sat up at night, staring at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts. Cas always felt exhausted and he wondered if people felt like this all the time. He had also discovered he had an unfortunate habit of fidgeting. Gone were the days where he was able to sit and meditate without moving a muscle for hours on end. He could hardly go fifteen minutes without fidgeting. Sam said it was because he was still getting comfortable in his own skin and would go away after a while. But it still irritated him. Especially when he didn't realize he was doing it and Dean would give him that look.

The one thing about living in the bunker that Cas found he truly enjoyed was Dean's cooking. The man certainly had a talent, probably from the many years of taking care of Sam and that year spent with Lisa and her time Dean made him something, the man would wait expectantly for Cas' opinion. He was beginning to suspect his friend didn't even realize he was doing it as when he asked about it, Dean had flushed and muttered some excuse about just trying to figure out what Cas could stomach.

About two weeks in Cas looked up from the book he had been flipping through to see Dean giving him a strange look.

"Is something the matter Dean?" Cas asked.

"We have to get you some of your own clothing," he replied.

"Why?" Cas tilted his head. "Yours fit me well enough."

Dean got that strange look on his face again and glanced away for a moment. "You can't keep wearing my clothes forever," he explained. "We'll go out later today and buy you some."

"What about Sam?" he asked.

Sam was getting better but it was a very slow process and Dean barely left his brother's side.

"He'll be fine for a few hours,' Dean shrugged. "Kevin can look after him."

"Alright…' Cas replied with a slight frown.

"Don't look so excited now Cas,' Dean said sarcastically. Then he leaned in a little closer. "What's wrong?"

Cas stared back at Dean. Even as a human it was still his favorite past time. He'd found that even without seeing the splendor of his soul, he could appreciate the physical beauty of his friend. He could admire the smattering of freckles across his cheeks and feel a slight sense of pride for putting that body back together. He shook the thoughts aside when he realized he'd been staring for longer than was socially acceptable.

"I'm afraid to go outside," he admitted. He kept going, even though Dean opened his mouth to protest. "I'm afraid of running into another fallen angel. Of being reminded of my guilt." It was a guilt that never left him.

His friend nodded and his green eyes regarded him thoughtfully. As an angel, he was always finding a different shade in those eyes and it pained him not to see the multitude of tones of green anymore.

"I get it," Dean said. "But you can't lock yourself in the bunker forever Cas."

"Why not?" he realized he sounded like a petulant child but he couldn't bring himself to care. That had been his plan. Admittedly, it wasn't a very good one. But he was planning on sticking to it.

"You have to face life sooner or later," Dean replied patiently. "Not gonna lie to you buddy, it's gonna be hard. In fact, it'll probably suck. And being human will take some getting used to. But I'll be here to help you. Sam too," he added as an afterthought. "And we'll find a way to get the angels back into heaven again. Get you your wings back."

"After all I've done, I no longer deserve to be an angel of the lord," he growled. He pushed away the book and stood. "Let's just go shopping." He didn't want to continue this line of conversation.

Dean sighed in a way that told him this wasn't over but stood and went to get the keys to the Impala. They rode in silence to the nearest clothing store and Cas spent a few hours trying on things Dean picked out. There was a huge amount fo plaid involved. There were times when he'd walk out of the dressing room and see that look on his friend's face again. It was a strange play of emotions that he couldn't quite identify. Dean always made his expression carefully neutral before Cas could figure it out.

To be honest, he'd seen that expression on Dean's face a lot in the past two years. But he'd been too consumed with his own guilt over what he'd done with the Purgatory souls to pay much attention. They'd also been running for their lives most of the time. And then Cas had had to deal with Naomi and didn't have time. Now he was still weighed down with guilt, but analyzing the mysteries of Dean Winchester seemed a lot more preferable to slowly spiraling towards madness and depression.

They purchased the clothing and then headed back to the bunker as Cas stifled a yawn.

"Hey, c'mon Cas, shopping isn't that tiring,' Dean teased good naturedly, glancing at him before focusing on the road again.

"I'm still not used to the whole sleeping thing," he said. It wasn't a complete lie. He _was_ unused to actually having to sleep. If he wasn't staring at the ceiling all night, he'd pass out in a chair, the book he'd been reading still in his hands. He would wake up the next morning with a sore neck or back but he never complained. The worst part of sleep, in his opinion, were the dreams. More nightmares in his case. All he saw were his brothers and sisters falling, their wings engulfed in flames. Those nights he'd wake in a cold sweat, heart racing and a fresh wave of guilt crashing over him.

Dean shrugged and kept his eyes on the road. "Well that's what coffee's made for," was his only reply. The way he said it, it made Cas think Dean might've had some experience with nightmares too.

The weeks continued to pass and Sam slowly got better. He was up and about more and Dean was extremely grateful those trials hadn't done any permanent damage to his little brother. He was also glad he didn't have to worry about him as much anymore. Dean already had his hands full dealing with a depressed fallen angel. He knew Cas was having a hard time coping with his role in the fall of all angels. He could hear him shouting in the nights sometimes. And his friend was usually quiet but he seemed to be retreating back inside himself more and more lately. He was trying, but he didn't really know how to help. Especially since he had a feeling he'd need to get a handle on his own feelings first. And that was just something he didn't want to think about.

The days were starting to blend together for Cas. Sam got better and he was glad of that. His return to health signified the possibility of going on hunts. As much as he didn't want to run into any other angels, Cas was practically itching to get back in the game. He wanted to be out there, helping people, doing _something_. He and Dean had sparred a bit and he'd found that he still had his fighting instinct. His friend had actually grinned and laughed when Cas had managed to clock him. Dean had also shown him how to use a gun, now that he was more vulnerable. Cas still preferred knives and short blades, however, as that used to be his primary weapon. They'd found Cas was extremely proficient in his throwing skills, hitting the bulls eye every single time.

Amongst other things he was discovering about himself, Cas also found he had an affinity for running. He supposed that was how Jimmy used to stay in shape. Now every morning he'd join Sam for a few mile run. It was freeing, he thought. Castiel was always extremely aware of his heartbeat, his breathing, his feet pounding into the pavement or dirt. All this was just so…human. And he was slowly acclimating to being one now. It was also a chance to not think, for once. To just let go and enjoy the scenery and not think about his role in the fall of all angels.

Another few weeks passed before Dean dubbed Sam ready to go out on a hunt. A few mysterious deaths in Portland was to be their first case. Sam was pretty positive it was an angry spirit. A fairly simple job. Perfect for starting Sam out slow and easing Cas into the life of a hunter.

"We really need to work on your people skills,' Dean sighed as they walked out of the local police station.

Cas was still horrendous at lying and it had nearly blown the whole thing. And he _still_ couldn't hold the FBI badge the right way, which Dean refused to think of as adorable. The case was fairly simple. The dead man in question, Mike Knowles, had shot his ex-girlfriend and her new paramour while they were in bed together before shooting himself. The two men had died but the woman, Veronica Summers, had miraculously survived. Within the past two weeks, two men who had come in contact with Veronica had died in the same manner: shot through the heart. The only problem was that Forensics hadn't found any gunshot residue or bullets at either crime scene.

Sam had gone to talk with Veronica while Dean and Cas checked with the police station. They were currently heading to a restaurant to meet with Sam and trade info.

They met Sam and were escorted to a table by a cute waitress who Dean didn't even look twice at. For some reason that made Cas hide a smile behind his menu. He didn't know why he was happy about it, he just was.

"So what's the deal with the Summers chick?" Dean asked after they'd ordered: a burger each for Dean and Cas, and a salad for Sam.

"Veronica's been taking it hard," he started. "She said she's been going out to bars recently, trying to get over the whole thing. Bother guys she's nearly hooked up with have ended up dead. But she had nothing to do with the murders. Didn't even know they were dead. She just thought these guys didn't call."

"So it's definitely the old boyfriend?" Cas asked.

"I'd say so. Apparently the guy was a raving lunatic. She said they'd broken up a few weeks before the attack and he didn't take it well. He started getting all stalkerish and said her new boyfriend wasn't good enough, wasn't safe," Sam explained.

"Wasn't safe?" Dean asked with a frown.

"She thought he had just gone nuts. But get this. Her new boyfriend had a history of violence. And according to an old yearbook I found, Mike and her new guy were friends in college."

"So Mike was telling the tryth?" it was Cas' turn to frown now. He much preferred dealing with demons. He wasn't much for the all the drama that seemed to be behind the majority of these spirit cases.

"Looks like it. Apparently, the night Mike went crazy, Veronica and her new beau got into a public argument and he smacked her around a bit," Sam explained.

Their food was delivered and they stayed silent for a moment until the waitress walked away again.

"So it is likely that Mike was witness to this fight and decided to take matters into his own hands since Veronica wasn't listening to him," Cas said as he picked up his burger.

"Sounds like you hit the nail on the head Cas," Dean said.

Cas felt a small glow of pride. He could do this. He could be a good hunter and help Sam and Dean. He could move on, save people and make up for his past wrongs.

"So where's this guy buried?" Dean asked Sam.

"Still working on that," he sighed. "Veronica said he'd been buried in Meadowbrook Cemetery on the south side of town. But the place is huge. I'm looking into getting a map for it as we speak." He gestured to his iPad.

Dean nodded and took a huge bite of his burger. They waited in silence for a little while until Sam spoke up. At one point Cas felt like someone was watching him and looked up from his burger to see Dean staring at him. When the other man realized he'd been caught he quickly looked away and took a gulp of coffee, avoiding Cas' curious gaze.

"Got it," Sam said and pulled a small pad of paper out to write down the location of the plot.

"Awesome," Dean said with a slight grin. "Let's go gank this son of a bitch."


	3. On The Hunt

Hey all! I'm sorry it took me so long to get this up. Life's been hectic. But I'm hoping to finish it before the premiere of the new season. Please enjoy! Also, this whole chapter was either written while I was bored in class or as a destresser after biochem so if anything doesn't make sense or seems weird, please let me know and I can fix it. Thank you!

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It took them a long time to find the grave, and even when they did, they had to come back later, during the night. Sam and Dean had had to explain enough times why they were digging up graves in the middle of the day and preferred the cover of darkness. Castiel found himself restless as they passed time in the motel. It felt too small, too confined. He wondered how the Winchesters had done this for years. Finally Dean tossed aside the magazine he was reading and grabbed the keys to the Impala.

"That's it. I can't take you pacing anymore," he frowned at his friend. "I'm going to a bar."

"I'll come-," he started but Dean cut him off.

"No just…stay here and see if you can help Sam research," he said.

Cas frowned and looked down at his feet, nodding. He felt as if he were getting blown off, as if he had annoyed Dean. He decided he didn't like the feeling.

"Be back before midnight, alright?" Sam said from the small table he'd set up as his research station. "So we can go dig up the grave."

"Alright, alright," Dean muttered and was soon out the door.

Castiel was struck by how odd that conversation would appear to outsiders but was completely normal to them. Then he reminded himself that this was the path he'd chosen. The one that kept him with the people he cared about, no matter how strange their life. He turned to Sam, who was giving him a sympathetic look.

"Do you need help?' he asked and was a little shocked to hear that his voice sounded almost…sulky.

He thought he saw a faint smile on Sam's lips but then the larger man was tossing a book at him. He caught it deftly then looked down at it in confusion.

"A History of Angels?" he asked.

"I'm trying to find out more about Metatron," Sam explained. "To see if there's any way to summon him or something that will help us figure out how to combat the spell he used on all the angels."

"I'm not sure there is a way," he sighed but sat down and opened it. They read in silence for a while, Cas making the occasional comment on how this or that fact was wrong.

After an hour or so Cas' stomach grumbled and he stared down at it as if it had personally affronted him. He still wasn't used to having to deal with his more human needs. Sam just laughed and stretched out his long legs.

"How about we order some pizza?" he asked.

Cas just nodded, staring down at the book again. He listened as Sam ordered a plain pizza over the phone. When he hung up, Cas looked up to find Sam regarding him curiously.

"Is something wrong Sam?" he asked, setting the book aside. From Sam's expression he could tell that whatever the man had to say would be serious.

"Just…about you and Dean…" he started, looking slightly uncomfortable.

Castiel cocked his head to the side. "What about me and Dean?" he frowned slightly. If anything, Cas felt Dean had been a little distant lately.

Sam opened his mouth to speak and the door burst open, Dean stumbling through. He immediately slammed it shut behind him and looked around.

"Where's the salt," he demanded, already going to rummage through his bag.

"Why do you need the salt?" Castiel asked with a frown.

"I fucked up alright?" he snapped and pulled the container of salt triumphantly from his bag.

"Dean, calm down," Sam told him with one of his patented bitch faces. "What happened?"

"I went to the bar and I was just planning on drinking alone, but there was this hot chick and she looked miserable and you know, that was just a travesty," he was rambling this all out as he paced around the room, salting every possible entrance. "So I went up and started flirting, offered to buy her a drink."

"Oh no," Sam said. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration; he had clearly guessed what Dean had done.

Cas, on the other hand, was still lost. He sat on the bed, tilting his head in confusion. "I don't understand," he said, "you flirt with women all the time and it doesn't usually lead to bodily harm."

"I didn't realize it until she said her name," he growled, tossing the empty salt bag in the trash.

"Shit, Dean," Sam sighed.

"I know, I fucked up," he muttered, glancing nervously at the door.

Cas squinted at Dean in confusion, still trying to figure out what Dean had done that required this level of protection. Finally it clicked and his eyes widened. "Oh, you flirted with the woman whose ex-lover was haunting her," he said.

"Thanks Cas, thanks for spelling it out for everyone," he snarked and Cas felt slightly hurt at the sarcastic tone in his voice. "Yes, I did, now we need to figure out what to do."

Sam glanced at his watch. "We might as well head to the cemetery now," he said. "You stay here, Dean. Cas and I can handle this."

"Oh hell no. I'm not staying here, hiding while you and Cas go out and save my ass. I can protect my own ass fine, thank you," he growled, grabbing his gun from the nightstand and holstering it.

Sam and Castiel just gave Dean and off look before they both stood and grabbed their jackets. Cas still hadn't been able to let go of the old trench coat and, though it was more beat up than ever, he'd convinced Dean to let him keep it after they'd washed it. They all walked out to the Impala and Dean retrieved one of the rock salt shotguns from the trunk. He kept it on his lap as he drove and Cas was, once again, relegated to the back seat. He wasn't entirely sure he liked being in the back. He was stuck watching the back of their heads, Dean's in particular and it caused a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. He'd had this view a lot lately, he thought. He was constantly watching Dean turn his back on him, each time because of something Cas had done. Each time he'd betrayed his trust in some way and Castiel didn't like the way it made him feel. It was worse now that he was human.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't realize when they pulled up at the graveyard.

"Yo, Cas, you coming?" Dean asked as he and Sam got out.

Cas shook himself out of his thoughts and nodded, joining them by the trunk of the Impala. They got out shovels, gasoline and more salt, and then made the trek to the grave. Dean brandished the shotgun the whole time, scanning the area. So far, the ghost hadn't made any appearances and Castiel hoped it would stay that way. It was not to be, however. As soon as Sam poured a ring of salt around the grave and they started digging, an intense wind started.

"Fuck," Dean cursed. "Dig faster!"

Castiel dug until his shoulder muscles were straining and still he kept going. His hands were raw from the shovel but he didn't care. He was so focused he only paused when he heard the report of the shotgun going off.

"Damnit Dean. The salt ring's not going to hold much longer!" Sam called over the wind.

"I know!" he yelled back. "Just keep digging!"

Dean had to fire the shotgun again before they hit the coffin. Cas hadn't thought it was possible to dig a grave this quickly, but they'd done it. Sam wrenched it open and Dean was just climbing out to get the gasoline when the salt ring broke. The wind died down almost immediately and Dean lunged for the shotgun. He didn't make it and Cas couldn't help a soft gasp as his friend was slammed into the gravestone.

"You flirting with my girl?' the ghost of Mike Knowles growled as Dean struggled to get away.

"Cas! The gasoline!" Sam called as he climbed out of the grave.

He grabbed the can of gasoline and all but dumped the entire contents on the bones in the open grave as Sam went for the shotgun.

"You're gonna pay for that," the ghost smirked, a gun appearing in his hand.

"Cas!" Dean yelled as the dark haired man struggled with the lighter.

He couldn't get the thing to light. How the hell did Dean do this so easily? His heart was pounding and his fingers fumbled on the button. Cas glanced between Dean and the lighter frantically. Mike was starting to pull down on the trigger and Sam was only just getting to the shotgun. He thought his heart was going to stop and he watched in wide eyed horror as the trigger depressed. Right then, flame sprang to life on the lighter and he threw it into the grave. The bones went up in flames just as the gun was about to go off. The ghost of Mike screamed and went up in flames as well, letting Dean go. The other man slid to the ground, coughing and running his hands over his chest, making sure he hadn't been shot. It had been a close call, but it looked like he was all right.

Cas, on the other hand, thought he might be having what they called a panic attack. He sank to his knees, heartbeat in his throat, breath coming shallowly. He distantly heard someone calling his name. Too close, that had been too close. Dean had nearly died and Cas hadn't been able to do anything but frantically try to work a lighter. It made him realize just how powerless he was now.

Green eyes moved into focus in his field of vision. Bright green eyes that shouldn't exist anywhere but inside a story. Then he saw freckles. He knew that pattern, had put it back together himself when he'd raised Dean from Hell. Dean. That's who was in front of him. A warm hand on his shoulder, gently saying his name, a worried expression on his face.

"You okay man?" he asked when Cas' gaze focused more and his breathing became more regular.

"I'm not the one who nearly go shot, Dean," he said, voice gruff.

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, well, I'm used to it," he shrugged. He helped Cas to his feet and stepped back. He continued to watch the man closely though, as if worried he might start hyperventilating again.

Sam watched the two with a soft smile and didn't say anything, though he had the look of a long suffering third wheel. The three of them walked back to the Impala and Cas slumped in the back seat. He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted, and was out like a light within minutes.

He woke later, surrounded by warm blankets and realized that he was back in the motel room, tucked safely in bed. Castiel didn't remember getting out of the Impala and wondered how he had gotten there. It wasn't long before he was drifting back off to sleep though, remembering the feeling of strong arms lifting him and carrying him in.

Over the course of the next few months, Castiel started going on more and more hunts with the Winchesters. Sam recovered back to his full health and the only issue that remained was defeating Metatron. Cas began to prove himself as a Hunter and quickly became a valuable asset to their team. Dean made him practice more often than he'd like at their shooting range. He was getting much better at it but he still preferred his knives over anything else. Sam had not revisited the topic of him and Dean since that moment in the hotel room and, honestly, Cas was kind of glad he hadn't. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk about what was going on between him and Dean. And he had noticed something, though he wasn't sure what it was. Occasionally Dean would do things, small things, like resting a hand on his shoulder as he looked over at something on the table in front of him. Or fix Cas' clothing when it was askew, standing much closer than usual. He always handed Cas a cup of coffee in the morning, just the way he liked it, without Cas even asking for it. But whenever Cas brought any of these things up, Dean would get an odd look on his face and then immediately change the subject. Then he would act snippy for days. Honestly, Cas was baffled. And he didn't dare ask Kevin or Sam about it.

Cas was getting comfortable in his new life, despite all the issues, and unfortunately, comfort bred complacency. He was getting used to hunting. So used to it, in fact, that he could go through most of their routine hunts on autopilot, his thoughts centered more on how to help the angels back into heaven. Of course, autopilot meant that he slipped back into angelic habits every now and then.

Currently Cas was battling with a particularly annoying demon. It wasn't a very skilled fighter and he could dispatch of it easily as long as he continued to avoid its blows. Only too late did he realize he had a hand on the thing's head, as if to smite it, and nothing was happening. He cursed under his breath as the demon laughed at him and tried to pull his hand away. He was too slow and the demon grabbed his arm then twisted painfully as he tossed Castiel to the side. Cas felt more than heard the sickening snap of his arm as he landed. It felt like fire up his arm and he let out a small cry. He'd never felt anything quite like this and, for a moment, he thought he might actually pass out. There was a flash of light as someone exorcised the demon with Ruby's old knife and then Dean was at his side.

"Looks like it's broken," the other man noted, gingerly examining Cas' arm where it was cradled against his chest. "Pretty bad too."

"Hurts…" was all Castiel was able to gasp out. He felt a slight burning in his eyes and he realized with some mortification that he might be crying. He'd dealt with worse than this when he was an angel! He'd fought through the fires of Hell for God's sake! But now, as a human, feeling things differently than he ever had, his arm hurt so much it brought tears to his eyes.

"C'mon Cas," Dean said and helped him up, trying his hardest not to jostle his broken arm.

It was broken so badly that they had to actually go to the hospital to get it set. Dean lied about how it had happened as Sam gave the nurses their fake insurance numbers. The doctors set his arm and, to his credit, he only bit his lip and let out a small whimper of pain as they did. Dean held his hand through the whole thing and not even the cute nurse could pull him away.

"Give him these," he heard a doctor say and watched as Dean was handed a small bottle of pills. "They should help with the pain."

Once they'd put his arm in a cast and sling, he let Dean lead him back out to the Impala. He got in and rested his head against the window, staring out blankly. His arm throbbed dully and he felt exhausted. He just wanted to go back to the bunker and sleep. Thankfully, that was exactly what Dean let him do. They drove back to the bunker and Dean helped him to the couch. If Cas noticed the man was being especially attentive, he didn't say anything. He let Dean prop him up with the fluffiest pillows then pile blankets on him. He blinked up at his friend when he pushed two small white pills into his hand.

"You swallow them," he explained.

Cas nodded and put the pills in his mouth, taking the glass of water from Dean and washing them down. Then he settled back against the pillows and closed his eyes. He was asleep nearly instantly.

Hours later he woke again and sat up. His arm no longer ached and something felt…different. The world around him was sharper, the colors brighter. Castiel's felt light, like he might start floating at any second. He looked down at his uninjured hand and flexed his fingers. He still looked the same. What was different? It dawned on him all at once and he couldn't help the smile that sprang to his face.

"What's got you so happy?" a voice came from his doorway.

He looked up to see Dean and beamed at him with a slightly lopsided smile. "It feels like…my grace," he said. "Those pills…they feel like my grace."  
Cas was too distracted by the suddenly bright colors, by how good he felt, to notice the horror spreading over Dean's face.


End file.
